It's Not Easy Being Green
by poestheblackcat
Summary: Summary: "The Carnival Job" tag. "Seein' green, that's jealousy in my book." "That's because he painted her green," Parker retorted. Eliot-Parker banter about Parker 2000, poor hurt!Eliot and no h/c from Parker, just a couple of punches in the arm.


This is not a serious fic, just an episode tag that came into my head after watching "The Carnival Job." I'm not really trying to do anything other than a little light Parker-Eliot bantering. So yeah...they're probably out of character. Right, mikafan? Eliot's out of character again? He's so hard to get right! *sputters and tears hair out*

Summary: "The Carnival Job" tag. "Seein' green, that's jealousy in my book." "That's because he painted her green," Parker retorted. Eliot-Parker banter about Parker 2000, poor hurt!Eliot and no h/c from Parker, just a couple of punches in the arm.

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><p><strong>It's Not Easy Being Green<strong>

Eliot sat and ached. That's all he had the energy for, hurting. His head pounded, his ribs protested with every breath, his dislocated hip flared hot tendrils of pain down his leg and up his side, and his eyeballs throbbed. So did his nose, for that matter. He slouched down in his hoodie and leather jacket and stifled a groan. He felt like crap.

Next to him, he could feel Parker glaring laser beams at the green "replacement." Hardison had left to go to the men's room, leaving Eliot to guard Parker 2000, which sat on the booth's leather-lined seat.

Parker's hand twitched, and Eliot's own clamped down over it before she could do any damage to Hardison's baby. "No, darlin', you don' wanna do that," he said. "He'll whine all week if ya do, and I don' think I could stand that right now."

"She replaced me," she said, eyes narrowed at the robot. "How could he bring _her_ here?"

Eliot did groan this time. "It, Parker. It's an 'it.' And Hardison didn't replace you with it. It's just a machine."

"She cracks safes. _I_ crack safes." Parker's other hand (the one not trapped under Eliot's heavier, scraped up hand) inched towards the green hunk of metal.

Eliot squeezed the slim appendage he already had, not wanting to reach over with his broken hand and risk jarring his ribs (and hip and head) as well, to get the little thief's attention. Then he let go, sliding his hand around to where he knew she kept her tools. He pulled one out.

"This knocks people out," he said, holding up her favorite Tazer. He dodged her attempt to grab it back. "_I _knock people out. You see me getting jealous? Huh?" He handed it back to her. "No. It's just a tool. I know I'm better."

Parker pouted. "I'm not jealous."

Eliot grunted. "Seein' green, that's jealousy in my book."

"That's because he painted her green," she retorted, making the hitter roll his eyes and regret it a second later.

"Metaphor, Parker."

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "I'm better. I'm not _green_."

"That's the spirit," Eliot said, too tired to explain the flaw in her logic. He'd tried.

Hardison came back to the booth at that point, jerking the table and making Eliot flinch as the jolt went up his arm to his bruised shoulder. "What took you so long? Were you powdering your nose or something?" he groused to cover it up.

"I didn't take that long, Mr. Grumpypants," Hardison protested, patting his Parker prototype affectionately, drawing a low growl from the blonde. "Man's gotta piss, man's gotta piss, nuttin' you can do about it."

"Don't call him Grumpypants. I call him Grumpypants," Parker said, back to glaring daggers at Parker 2000.

"_Nobody_ calls me Grumpypants," Eliot growled.

Parker ignored him, focusing on her rival. "I'm better than her." She kicked a leg under the table at the robot, but Eliot caught her knee before the foot could do any damage. He grunted as the movement pulled at his body, and Parker poked him, frowning. He scowled back. Hardison owed him big.

Hardison glanced between his two weird-ass teammates. "Uh," he said, "Am I missin' somethin' here? Cuz I feel like I'm missin' somethin'."

Through the answering silence, they could hear the tail end of Nate and Sophie's conversation with the client.

"_You know sometimes, when you lose something you care about, something you can't do without, you lose how to live," _Nate was saying.

"_Like my chip!"_ Jeff answered happily, and strolled out the door.

The boys snorted, and Parker continued to glare at the other Parker. Eliot nudged her. _Be nice._ She pouted and he raised his eyebrows at her. She nodded grudgingly with a big sigh and plastered on a bright smile.

Hardison cleared his throat, looking between the two of them. _Weird. _"It sounds like Molly and her dad are doin' okay," he said, putting his elbows on the table, trying to change the subject to dispel the awkward silence.

"They're making up for lost time," Eliot said, going along with it. He hoped things would go well for the sardonic teen and her father but wondered if Connell would be able to handle Molly. He smirked (on the inside). Probably not - she was a real handful. He picked at the bandage on his hand.

Hardison saw the movement and made a comment about a trip to the hospital. Boy was getting more observant, which was a plus during a heist, but when it came to downtime with Eliot and his injuries...Hospital, ha! Eliot hated hospitals, especially when he could hire a sexy nurse to take care of him. He knew his own body, and he knew how far he could push himself before he was in real trouble. All he needed was a little R&R.

Parker, on the other hand...There was something wrong with her, seriously wrong. Who in the hell punches an injured friend on the arm? Twice? Crazy chick. That's the last time he'd try giving her relationship advice, he thought, as he stood to greet Nurse Gayle, who'd just sashayed her way into the bar.

Mmmm, Nurse Gayle.

Eliot woke suddenly several hours later to find Parker sitting, on his windowsill, humming a...lullaby? Filing her presence under "low-risk," he quickly catalogued his injuries. Nurse Gayle had done a good job with the massage. Yeah, real good, he thought, testing his shoulder. He still ached all over, though.

"Whaddaya want, Parker?" he growled into his pillow. "I'm tryin' to sleep, here."

"I like green," she said, sounding chipper and cheery and slightly creepy. All normal, for Parker, anyway.

So the two twitterbirds had talked, had they? Good for them.

"That's nice. Now go away, Parker."

She slipped out of the window, but not before flitting close to his bed and giving him a good-sized poke in the arm.

"Parker!"

She answered with a gleeful _"Wheee!"_ off of his fire escape.


End file.
